


The End of the World As We Know It (Looks Pretty Much the Same to Me)

by lost_spook



Category: Press Gang
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Awesome Lynda Day, F/M, Frazz is a prophet, Gen, Lynda doesn't hold with zombies, Women Being Awesome, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-29
Updated: 2010-10-29
Packaged: 2017-10-12 22:54:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/130006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_spook/pseuds/lost_spook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Lynda, I know the Gazette's important to you, but you think this is the way to fight off the impending apocalypse?  Edit a newspaper?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	The End of the World As We Know It (Looks Pretty Much the Same to Me)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [belantana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/belantana/gifts).



> Originally written for belantana, who loves all things apocalyptic and zombie-related.

Spike and Frazz double-checked the doors were securely barricaded, but everyone's attention was fixed in the opposite direction – on Lynda Day, leaning against the Editor's desk at the back of the newsroom.

"Okay, I'm sorry," said Frazz eventually. "If this is my fault, I promise never to do it again."

"Frazz?" said Sarah. "What are you on about?"

Tiddler picked up last week's _Junior Gazette_ , and offered it to her. "Don't you read the horoscopes? Frazz predicted Pisces would be facing a surprise invasion of the undead at work. By a freaky million-to-one chance, he turned out to be right."

"Only Pisces?" said Sarah. "I don't think this lot are being that choosy."

Tiddler shrugged. "Well, we're thinking of calling him Coriolanus from now on."

"Yeah, so keep calm, everyone," added Frazz. "This is some weird thing in my head, and I'm doing everything I can to wake up."

"I've been pinching his arm all morning," added Tiddler.

Lynda raised her chin, and everyone fell silent. "Right," she said. "Firstly, Tiddler, I think you mean Nostradamus. Secondly, I don't believe in fate and destiny and prophecy and all that rubbish, and especially not in Frazz's horoscopes. Thirdly, Frazz, I'm not a figment of your imagination, so snap out of it before I have to prove it. This is real, everyone. I should know."

"So," said Sarah, slowly, "what are we going to do about it?" She was sitting on her desk, watching Lynda. She sounded subdued, but there was a faint light in her eye as she looked to the _Junior Gazette_ 's fearless editor.

"I'm sorry?" said Lynda. "You mean, what are we going to do about the fact that the rest of Norbridge seems to have suddenly switched to a diet of brains?"

Sarah gave an apologetic smile. "Well, we can't just stay in here. We'd starve. And if we go out there, we won't last long."

There was a rustle of unease around the room, as if everyone was only now accepting the reality of the situation – and the possibility that this one was beyond even Lynda Day.

"Yeah," said Spike, striding across the room to her. "What do we do now, Boss? I know you've got a plan. Not necessarily a good plan, maybe, but that's okay, 'cos I'm great at the fine-tuning. So, what do we do?"

Lynda smiled, and directed a glance about the room, taking in everyone who was gathered there. "What we're good at. That's what we do. We produce the next edition."

There was a stunned silence.

"Lynda," said Sarah.

Julie thought about things for a fraction longer. "Are you crazy?" She thought some more. "Crazier than usual, I mean."

"Lynda, I know the Gazette's important to you, but you think this is the way to fight off the impending apocalypse?" added Spike. "Edit a newspaper?"

"This is going to be a special edition," said Lynda, straightening herself. "They want brains? We'll give them brains."

Spike choked. "I kinda wish you hadn't said that."

"We're going to produce our most important edition," continued Lynda without hesitation. "I think I told you that before, but I'm willing to stand up here and admit I was wrong, this once: _this_ is the most important edition we're ever going to print. It's also probably going to be the last. Let's make it one to remember."

"A special, zombie-fighting edition?" mocked Spike, and then stopped, in front of her. "That's it, isn't it? A special, zombie-fighting edition."

Lynda nodded. "Yes. Firstly, any handy tips on what actually works against the creatures. Tiddler, I want you to collect those. Sarah, I want a sensible feature on what might have caused the outbreak – any hot spots to avoid, that kind of thing. And, Julie, in big letters on the front page, I want it to be known that there are a small group of survivors willing to fight back using the Gazette offices as their HQ. Frazz, I don't believe in the power of horoscopes, but predict something a bit more cheerful this time, just so we're covered. Got it, everyone?"

"Yes," said Sarah, the gleam in her eye more evident now.

Tiddler played with her pencil, as the rest of the newsroom returned to the familiar routine. "How about chopping off their heads and giving them garlic?"

"Not things that work on fictional vampires, but actual ways to stop the genuine zombies out there," said Lynda.

Spike raised his hand. "Hey, I can vouch for the head thing, because – well, let's not go into it. Got a little messy, but it seemed to work okay even without the garlic."

"Lynda?" said Kate.

Lynda turned her head. "Yes, Kate, we'll be working for graphics tonight, much as I hate to say it. Liaise with Julie. She remembers what it was like working for the dumber side of the newsroom."

Kate bit her lip. "I was actually going to ask, how are we going to print it?"

"There is a small group holed up in the main Gazette building," said Lynda. "We'll go over there, persuade them that zombies might possibly be a bigger threat than the printers' union, and get an edition run off. Next comes the difficult part."

"More difficult than facing off the printers' unions?"

"Spike. We're going to have to get as many copies out there as we can – delivered by hand to every address we can manage, preferably without being killed or turned into one of them, although there are some of you I don't mind losing, as long as you get your quota done first."

Sarah smiled. "Produce an edition completely for free, with no advertising? Won't Colin have a fit?" She stopped. "Where is Colin?"

"In his cubby hole," said Spike. "He's a bit shell-shocked."

Tiddler shook her head. "That'll teach him to save Sophie and Laura. If you ask me -."

"No one did," said Lynda. "Leave Colin to me. I'm going to need him for my negotiations."

As everyone set to work, the phone rang on Lynda's desk.

"Okay," said the voice on the other end, "I don't know how you managed to hijack the international news networks, but this still isn't funny, Lynda."

Lynda took a deep breath. "Kenny, would I lie to you about an apocalypse?"

"Well, I don't know, Lynda. What wouldn't you lie to me about if it suited you?"

Spike leant over. "Let me." He took the phone from her. "Kenny, it's Spike. I get that it's easier to believe that Lynda's become a megalomaniac news tycoon overnight and is using her newfound powers to persecute you than that the UK has been invaded by a horde of the undead, but it's the truth. We're stuck in the middle of one of those horror movies they keep trying to ban. Shame, 'cos now it turns out they were really educational."

"All this stuff on the news," said Kenny, slowly, speaking from the other side of the world. "It's serious?"

"Oh, no, it's a barrel of laughs, but yeah."

Lynda snatched the phone back. "Right. And as long as Australia remains a safe zone, get ready to welcome a bunch of refugees when I say so."

As she slammed the phone down, she found Spike watching her.

"What?"

Spike said, "Well, Australia's kind of a long way away. Were you planning on rowing there, or was it long-distance swimming you had in mind?"

"Hot air balloon," retorted Lynda. "Don't ask stupid questions. We'll work this out one step at a time, and first of all, I need to deal with Colin."

The American turned round to look at the closed doors to Colin Mathews's office. "He's taking it hard, isn't he?"

"What do you think?" said Lynda. "The one thing he really cares about is suddenly completely and totally irrelevant."

*

It was dark in the headquarters of CM Enterprises, and Colin himself was sighing heavily, as he repeatedly pulled the head off a defective and dangerous teddy.

"Well? Are you just going to sit there feeling sorry for yourself, or are you going to get up, and help us get out of this alive?"

Colin breathed out an even weightier sigh. "There's no point, Lynda. It's over. It's all over."

"Sorry. I heard about your family."

Colin put down the teddy. "Yeah, that was pretty bad, too. I mean, I thought my sister couldn't get any scarier, but turns out I was wrong."

"Colin -."

"My entire life is meaningless," the gazette's financial wizard continued. "It's all reduced to nothing. Zero. Money is worthless in a post-apocalyptic society, even those cute fifty pence pieces. I mean it, Lynda. There's nothing left for me. You might as well stab me with the spike on this sweet-looking, affordable but lethal toy right here and now and have done with it."

Lynda took a step forward, and Colin shrank back.

"But, hey, remember I'm a coward who can't stand the sight of blood, so don't take me literally on that."

"Don't be an idiot," said Lynda, sitting down opposite him. "Yeah, the paper and coins you're so fond of might have temporarily lost their value, but I'd have thought a smart guy like you would have seen what that means."

"Eh? What that means?"

Lynda raised an eyebrow. "So, money's not going to get me anywhere, but I still want things – food, a way out, a chance to pull off a potentially suicidal plan to print one final edition of the Gazette. What do I do?"

"What was that last one again?" said Colin, waking up. "And I don't know what you do, Lynda. Personally, I think lying down and starving to death is probably the most painless option… Hang on. Wait. You mean…?"

Lynda nodded.

"If money's worthless, and you can't use it to buy or sell stuff," said Colin, "then everything's a commodity, right? There's nothing you can't trade for something else."

Lynda smiled. "And where does a guy like you fit into that sort of society, Colin?"

"I think I'm having some sort of epiphany."

"Good," she said, briskly, getting up again. "I want you ready to accompany me on a mad dash over to see Chrissie at the main Gazette office and persuade her that she wants to draw the attention of every passing member of the undead by letting the presses roll one last time."

"On second thoughts," said Colin, coughing, and putting his hand to the right side of his chest, then glancing down, and exchanging it for the left, "I'm not convinced by your argument and – aargh – my wound from that gun siege -."

"You'll come with me. Don't ask me why it is, Colin, but if I have to fight off a load of zombies with some weaselly capitalist moron at my side, I want it to be you. And, by the way, that was a really brave thing you did back there."

"Yeah, I know," said Colin. "I'm already having nightmare flashbacks. Do you think the undead are going to be grateful to me for saving them from Sophie and Laura? Give me mileage in negotiations?"

Lynda grinned. "I don't know, but I can use those two little monsters on our side, and it was still a brave thing to do. You have your moments."

"Stop saying that. You know it makes me feel sick. And kind of clammy, and cold. I might be coming down with something. Lynda – I think I might be turning into one of them!" Colin put a hand to his face. "Nope. Still seem to be okay. That's a relief."

"You know, I was trying to say that there are times when I almost think I like you."

"Lynda."

"Only sometimes, and only almost, mind."

"Understood, boss," said Colin, beginning to look more cheerful. "Now, when you say anything's up for barter, does that include members of Gazette staff? I mean, I bet Sarah's going to be high-value in a society that's keen on brains."

"I take it back," said Lynda, marching out.

*

On emerging, Lynda was ambushed by Gazette staff with questions.

"One at a time!" yelled Spike. "Jeez, get in line, people."

Sarah moved forward. "Look, if we're telling people in black and white we're here, a fully-fledged resistance movement, isn't there the slight danger that the zombies are going to get their hands on a copy and notice?"

"Graham," said Lynda. "Want to nip back up there and tell me if any of the undead types lumbering blindly down the road are reading anything to pass the time in their search for brains?"

"It was a valid question," Sarah returned. "I had to ask."

Lynda moved past, heading back to her desk, pushing past Tiddler on the way. "Well, until someone's reported them raiding the library for extra copies of _Wuthering Heights_ or even Jeffrey Archer, it's a dumb question. Anyone else?"

"What do you think of our list of tips so far?" said Tiddler, handing over a sheet of paper.

Spike leant over Lynda's shoulder. "Hey, flirting works? I'm going to be champion zombie-slayer here, having them all lying dead at my feet; crisis over."

"Can it, Thomson," said Lynda. "Whose idea was that?"

"Well, some of them seem so – you know – _masculine_ ," said Julie, folding her arms. Everyone stared at the assistant editor. "What? What?"

"I think we're all awed at the new low in your taste in men," said Lynda. "Scratch that one, Tiddler. Also, unless we've got first-hand evidence, I think you'd be best leaving off the suggestion about reading them _War and Peace_."

"Hey, that'd bore anyone to death -."

Lynda glared at Spike. Then she turned back to Julie. "Seriously, they're lumbering about up there, brain-dead morons who can only manage to think about one thing – if thinking's the word – and you call that masculine?"

"You said it," said Julie, a dreamy look on her face.

"Hey!"

"All right, point taken," said Lynda. "But let's leave off the dating offensive until we know how infectious this is. Bits crumbling away would really cramp your style."

"Yeah, that's true."

*

"So, England is really under attack from the undead?"

Lynda raised her eyebrows as she spoke into the phone's receiver. "Kenny, I thought we got that clear an hour ago. Yes, it is. As far as I can gather, Scotland, Wales, and Ireland, too. There were reports of incidents in France before we lost the TV here."

"So, how are you planning to get to Australia? Want me to steal you a plane?"

Lynda smiled to herself. "Not if you're busy. I'll think of something."

"How is everyone?"

"What do you think? Be grateful you're not here. You wouldn't want to see my Mum, and Colin almost went philanthropic or something, but is his usual conniving self again now, thank goodness."

"Lynda -."

"Yes. It's real. We'll see you soon."

" _Lynda_ -."

"Either that, or there's going to be one smoking hole where we were standing and a lot of very, very dead undead. Understood?"

"Got it. I'll work on the stealing a plane thing."

"Just a little one to start with," said Lynda. "Work yourself up to it. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"That's going to be quite a challenge," said Kenny. "Lynda -."

"Trust me, Kenny," said Lynda, "no walking brain-dead thing is going to get the better of me, with or without your help."

"Glad to hear it. What sort of plane would you like?"

"Nothing ostentatious. Like I said – start small or you'll never get away with it."

*

As she put the phone down, Spike perched on the desk.

"What?"

He leant forward. "What's your plan after this, boss? When we've got the word out, and gathered what forces there are – what then?"

"I can't be expected to think of everything!"

"It's possible you might be running the country," said Spike. "A truly scary thought, but one that ran across my head a moment ago. Is this a distraction, or have you really got a plan to battle the undead and get us all to Australia, despite the fact that that's crazy and totally impossible? We couldn't even get to the Isle of Wight right now."

"You mean you don't know?" said Lynda, raising an eyebrow.

Spike shrugged. "Maybe I don't want to. Whatever it is, boss, I'm right there with you. The great escape, or fighting them on the beaches. I'm not leaving you, and if by any chance, I should end up not looking not so pretty before this finishes -."

"I'll cut off your head," she said, meeting his gaze. "Promise. Cross my heart and hope to die."

"Same to you," Spike said. "I mean it. So: what next?"

Lynda smiled. "You're with me and Colin on an undercover mission to Chrissie."

"I don't like to ask, but what happened to Matt Kerr?"

"Not fun. Didn't you see when they pushed him out of the window?"

Spike said, "Probably when I was trying out my experiment with decapitation. Ouch."

"Yes," said Lynda. "Spike, I'm not playing games here. These things have marched in and destroyed everything. Do you think I am going to stand here and let them get away with it?"

"Okay, if I were a zombie, I'd be trembling in my boots this second. Let's go. After that, I'll go find you a few rowboats. And oars. I hear they need oars. Or was it sails?"

Lynda smiled. "Great. Kenny's stealing a plane. We'll make it. And, Spike?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks."

At that point, Colin joined them. "Don't let me interrupt you two lovebirds. Big emotional moment – end of the world and all that. I understand."

"You just have, Colin, so carry on."

Colin smiled. "Okay, then. Let's go and talk serious barter with the big guys. And I want to check – are you sure we can't offer up Sarah? I mean, any zombie worth his salt has got to be slathering at the thought of the first class brains inside that girl's head-."

"You know," said Spike, "for one minute there, I was feeling all kind of brave and heroic and hopeful, like we were in some epic movie where the good guys were gonna win, and now I _know_ we're gonna die."

Lynda headed for the door. "Don't be silly, Spike," she said. "They're after brains, remember? Once Colin has sold Sarah, there won't be many of those left round here."

"Hey, I should've thought of that. And you, Boss?"

"I'm indestructible," said Lynda. "I thought you knew that."

Spike moved aside for her. "Never prove me wrong on that one, okay?"

"I know," said Lynda, leaning towards him. "And you stay pretty, okay?"

"I'll die trying, boss."

Colin was watching them. "Anyone know how things are in America?"

"Colin, must you be completely insensitive? We don't know, and we'd rather not think about it just yet."

"You said _movie_ back then. If Hollywood's still standing, think about the money for the film rights… Two star-crossed lovers, wise-cracking reporter types fighting off the hordes of Satan's undead to save the world. Hot stuff, kids – let's do this!"

"On second thoughts," said Spike, "if we all die, there are _some_ compensations."


End file.
